


Valley of Water

by Emospritelet



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Rumbelle Summer Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-14 09:39:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11780442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emospritelet/pseuds/Emospritelet
Summary: A fic written for the Rumbelle Summer Vacation event on tumblr.  Rumple and Belle travel to the Lake District with Gideon.  Set a few months after the end of season six.  No angst, just landscape, family time, and a little smut





	Valley of Water

Rumple reflected that summer in the north of England could be every bit as wet and dreary as Spring in the mountains in which the Dark Castle sat.

Having spent a week in London visiting the sights, Belle had suggested that they go somewhere more peaceful, and he had agreed readily.  Travelling with a young baby was difficult at the best of times, but the busy streets and rushing crowds had sent his anxiety levels skyrocketing, and he had wanted to curse the other tourists out of his way with a fireball or two every time they stepped too close to Belle or jostled Gideon’s stroller.  The fact that he couldn’t feel a lick of magic in this place made his skin itch, and at times he wished he still had his limp.  At least then his cane had been a useful weapon.

Belle had expressed a desire to see the Lake District, and so they had taken the train north to Carlisle, alighting at the pretty Victorian station and hiring a car to head to the lakes.  Rain spattered at the windows and ran in silvery trails, flicked off by the wipers, and Belle sighed as she peered out at the low clouds.  Rumple drove them south west, past rolling fields and thick hedges and squat cottages, before turning inland and heading towards the pale blue curves of the distant mountains.  Gideon was in a baby seat in the back of the car, sleeping peacefully, and Belle was as excitable as a puppy, a hand resting on Rumple’s thigh as she craned her head, trying to look at everything at once.

“There’s an ancient stone circle around here,” she said, poring over the map they had.  “Can we go and look at it?  It’s only a mile or two out of our way.”

“Just tell me where to turn,” he said, and she beamed at him.

“Take the next right,” she said.

He turned the car, the road narrowing, and they drove on for a while, the sky darkening to the west as the clouds rolled in.  Eventually Belle issued a further instruction to turn, and gestured to him to pull up in a layby next to a field.

“It’s through here,” she said eagerly.  “Are you coming?”

The rain was still falling, and the fields were moist and springy beneath their feet, the grass soaking the legs of his suit pants, but the stone circle wasn’t too far off. The large ring of ancient stones looked spectacular against the backdrop of mountain scenery, and Belle took pictures, ordering Rumple to stand beside the stones and smile, which made him roll his eyes.  He carried Gideon in his arms as Belle put her phone away and trotted ahead, winding her way between the stones to look them over.

“It’s weird seeing it in this setting,” she said, nodding to the nearby road, and the sheep grazing nearby.  “You’d think it would be somewhere more remote, somewhere off the beaten track that you have to hike for days to reach.  It’s almost like it’s been put up here to fool tourists, or something.”

She took a grousing Gideon from Rumple, laying him over her shoulder and hushing him.  Rumple squatted down, reaching out to touch one of the stones, and a delicate tingle ghosted over his skin, raising goosebumps.

“There’s magic here,” he whispered, and Belle shifted closer.

“Really?” she asked, her voice lowering to match his.

Rumple ran his fingers through the air, feeling the warmth, the tingle of power that lay just within reach.

“I thought there was only magic in Storybrooke,” she said, and he smiled.

“No no, there’s still a magic in this world,” he said quietly.  “Not enough to transcend realms or break curses, not on its own, but enough that I can sense it.  Especially in places like this.  In the old places, where the veil between realms is thin.  The homes of the old gods.”  His voice dropped to a whisper.  “I can feel it.  Dormant.  Waiting.”

“You’re - not going to wake it up, are you?” she asked a little nervously, and he settled back on his heels, grinning up at her.

“Not today.”

* * *

They drove back onto the main road, heading south west again before turning inland.  The road narrowed as it ran through small villages, and Rumple slowed to pass dog walkers and hikers, bundled up in their waterproof coats and heavy boots.  The houses were built of stone or neat bricks, some painted white or cream, others showing the granite and sandstone that made up their walls.  The roofs were tiled in grey slate, smoke curling up from a few chimneys despite it being summer.  He imagined it could get very cold here, in amongst the fells.

“It’s so _green_ ,” said Belle, her nose pressed to the window, and he glanced across.

“Must be all the rain,” he remarked, noting the dark clouds still rolling in from the west.  She shot him a look.

“I looked at the forecast.  It’ll be fine tomorrow.”

“I’m thinking it’s a good thing you packed half our wardrobes now,” he remarked.

“ _I’m_ thinking that you won’t be wearing a suit, for a change,” she countered, and he grinned.

The road dipped lower, flanked on both sides by dry-stone walls, and Rumple eyed the old black and white signs atop their striped poles, following the directions he had memorised from the map they had bought.  Eventually they arrived at the tiny village of Wasdale Head, nestled in a flat, green valley that stretched along the edge of a deep lake, surrounded by mountains.  The inn of the same name sent out a warm, welcoming light as the skies darkened.  It was a large old building, painted white and with a stretch of gravel outside, on which a few cars were parked.  Rumple drew to a stop, stones crunching beneath the tyres, and Belle shot him a grin as she opened the door.

“It smells so _good_ here,” she said happily.  “Almost like being back in the Enchanted Forest.”

Rumple got out of the car, stretching a little before taking a deep breath.  Clean, cold air filled his lungs, and he let it out in a long, contented sigh.

“Decidedly lower in pollution than Storybrooke,” he agreed.  “Shall we go and see about a room?”

* * *

They managed to get a room facing the mountains, with a comfortable bed and en suite bathroom, and Rumple changed and fed Gideon, seated on the bed while Belle went downstairs to enquire about dinner.  She returned just as Gideon was spitting up a little milk onto the towel that Rumple had laid over his shoulder for that very purpose.

“Dinner’s served from six until ten,” she announced.  “I got us a table for seven, is that okay?”

“Perfect.”

He wiped Gideon’s chin, offering him the bottle again, and Belle waved a book at him.

“I bought a guidebook, too,” she said.  “I thought it might be interesting to read about this place.”

Rumple smiled to himself at her excited tone.

“Go on, then,” he said.  “Tell me what you’ve learned in the five minutes you’ve been out of the room.”

“Wasdale is taken from the Old Norse,” she said, looking in the guidebook.  “It means ‘valley of water’.”

“Given the weather that seems to be prevalent in these parts, I’m not surprised.”

She shot him a grin.

“Did you know there have been people here in this valley for at least the past five thousand years?” she went on.  “Probably before that, but that’s the evidence they have for now.  The stone circle we saw dates from that time.  The landscape was formed by glaciers during the last ice age.”

“I can imagine that wasn’t too long ago, if it’s this cold in August,” he remarked.

Gideon pulled his head away from the bottle with the grumbling noise that usually preceded a bout of crying, and Rumple put the bottle aside, hefting him in his arms and laying him over his shoulder to rub his back.  He made hushing noises, and Gideon hiccoughed.

“Is he okay?” asked Belle anxiously.

“He’s taken most of the milk,” said Rumple.  “He has a little wind, I think.”

As if on cue, Gideon belched, spitting up more milk, and Belle giggled.

“Here, let me take him,” she said.  “Why don’t you run a bath?  I think we could both do with warming up.”

She shot him a heated look as she said it, and he felt his eyebrows jerk upwards.

“Alright.”

He ran the bath, tipping in some purple liquid that frothed and bubbled and smelt of lavender.  Belle came in just as he was turning off the water, her feet and legs bare, and she stretched up on her toes to kiss him as she worked on his tie.  He put his hands on her waist, gently parting her lips with his tongue as she pulled off the tie, and she moaned a little, pressing herself against him as her fingers plucked at his shirt buttons.  His hands slid down over her hips, cupping her rear and pulling her close, and she wriggled a little, a delightful sensation against him as he hardened.  He pulled his mouth from hers, kissing down her neck, and Belle gasped.

“Gideon?” he murmured.

“Sleeping.”

She got his shirt open, sliding her hands inside, and he pulled down the zipper of her skirt, pushing it over her hips and letting it fall.  She made a contented sound, tugging his shirt out of his pants and pushing it off his shoulders, and he stepped back to removed his gold cufflinks.  Belle watched him with a gleam in her eyes, chewing her lip as he undressed.

“You sure you want to get in the bath right away?” she asked innocently, and he felt his smile widen.

“If you get in with me.”

She grinned, blushing a little, and hurriedly unbuttoned her shirt, throwing it atop his and reaching behind to unhook her bra.  He ran his eyes over her as he shed the last of his clothes, admiring her pale skin and the delicate curves that he could spend hours kissing.  He stepped into the bath, sitting down in the hot water with a sigh, and Belle got in and sat between his legs, leaning back against his chest.  Rumple kissed the nape of her neck, making her moan.

“Feels nice,” she murmured.

He swept a hand through the bubbles, rubbing over her belly and cupping a breast, and she let out a tiny cry as he sank his teeth into her neck.

“You taste good,” he whispered, and she rolled her hips, making him grit his teeth at the pressure of her rear against his cock.

“Do I feel good, too?” she breathed.

He smiled, sliding his hand down between her legs to brush against soft flesh.  She was slippery with arousal, her skin like silk, and she moaned as her stroked her, the bathwater washing away her fluids.  He teased her earlobe with his tongue, gently sliding a finger inside her, and Belle arched her back, almost purring at his touch.

“You feel incredible, sweetheart,” he whispered.  “So hot and wet.  So beautiful.”

His fingers flickered over her, feeling the hardened bead of her clit, and he rubbed alongside it, his other arm sliding around her waist and holding her tight.  Belle writhed in his arms, letting her head roll back, pushing against his hand as he worked her.  His thumb began stroking as his fingers slid inside her again, and she bit back a cry.

“Rumple…”

He drew his tongue up the side of her neck, nipping at her ear.

“ _That’s_ it, my love,” he murmured.  “Come for me, my beauty.”

He could feel her body stiffening, one hand reaching up to comb through his hair as he kissed her, and her moans grew louder, her cheeks flushing, her hips bucking against his hand.  She came with a cry, and he groaned in pleasure as he stroked her.  Belle jerked and moaned in his arms, her fingers twisting against his scalp.  He remembered how she had used to tug on his long hair at the height of their passion, an exquisite pain.  Perhaps he ought to grow his hair again.

He kissed down her neck, sucking gently at the skin of her pale throat, and she stilled against him, murmuring contentedly.

“That was amazing,” she said, her voice slurred and drowsy.  “But what about you?”

He kissed her again.

“Bath first,” he said, and she turned onto her belly, her breasts pushing against his chest and a mischievous light in her eyes.

“Okay,” she said innocently.  “I can stand to get clean before we get dirty.”

Her grin was wicked, and he chuckled darkly, pulling her closer for a wet, hungry kiss.

* * *

The next morning, Rumple was surprised to see that the sun was out, the sky a clear blue.  After a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs, fried mushrooms and the thick, peppery local sausage, they dressed in loose pants and thick-soled walking boots for the hike they had planned.  Rumple followed Belle’s slight figure over the ancient stone packhorse bridge, Gideon nestled in a sling on his chest.  Belle had a pack on her back, containing picnic food, and he was carrying whatever Gideon might need for a day trip in his own pack.  The air smelt fresh and clean, and somehow cold, despite the sunshine.

The lake was long and deep, running along the valley with pebbled shores and trees lining its edge.  The surface of the water was very still and as smooth as glass, for the moment untouched by fish or waterbirds, the water darkening to midnight-blue at its deepest point.  Steep mountainsides, bare of grass and bushes and littered with small stones, plunged down into the water, reddish-brown and grey layers of stone stretching high up above them.  Belle stepped up to the edge of the lake, pebbles clattering beneath her sturdy boots, and threw her arms wide.

“This is the deepest lake in England,” she announced, and pointed to one of the mountains, its sharp peak cutting into the sky above the neighbouring hills.

“And - and that’s the highest mountain, over there,” she added.  “Scafell Pike.  I read that ‘fell’ comes from ‘ _fjall’_ , which is the Old Norse for a large, flat mountain.  Scafell Pike means ‘the peak of the large, flat mountain with the bare summit’.  A mix of Old Norse and Old English.”

“I can’t understand why Modern English came in,” he said dryly.  “The old way of saying things is much shorter.”

Belle giggled, turning to look at the mountain again.

“I want to walk around the lake,” she said.  “The book says that there’s a decent trail, and I bet the views are _stunning_.”

Rumple blinked.  “Alright.  When do you want to do that?”

“When we’ve looked around the church,” she said eagerly, and scurried off.  Rumple frowned at her back.

“Church?”

She was already trotting across the field, and he sighed and hitched Gideon a little higher before following her.  They crossed to a dry-stone wall, opening a wooden gate to reveal a neat grassy graveyard with slate headstones dotted around.  The church was a long, low building of rendered stone with a single window in the side.  It had a short, squat bell tower and a roof covered in the now-familiar grey slate, circles of greyish lichen spotting the tiles.

“This is St Olaf’s Church,” said Belle.  “Look at it, isn’t it cute?”

Rumple wrinkled his nose.

“Not really a fan of organised religion,” he said dryly.  “They never seem to look kindly on dark entities.”

Belle shot him a wry look over her shoulder.

“Well, I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

He grinned at her, shifting a sleeping Gideon in his arms.

“St Olaf’s?” he asked then.  “Doesn’t sound like a local name.”

“No, but it _was_ ,” said Belle eagerly, her eyes gleaming as she waved her guidebook.  “The church wasn’t dedicated to any saint that anyone knows of, but in the 1970s they decided to dedicate it to St Olaf.  This whole area was colonised by the Danes in the ninth century.  They say the church’s roof is made from the timbers of Viking longboats!  It’s over a thousand years old!”

“Really?”  Rumple looked it over.  “Well, I suppose we could have a peek inside.”

He followed her through the graveyard, and Belle gestured to the headstones scattered around.

“Many of these are the graves of climbers who died on the mountains,” she said.

“And you want us to walk here?” he remarked.

“We’ll be fine, it’s a nice day.”

“At the moment.”

“Don’t be such a misery!”

He grinned at her enthusiasm, stepping up behind her as she entered the church.  The building was cool, smelling of beeswax polish and the mustiness of old wood.  Vases of wildflowers, a riot of colour and thick with greenery, stood on the stone altar, and the sun streamed in through the window behind.  A visitor’s book sat on a shelf near the door, and Belle picked up a pen.

“I’m going to put my name in,” she said.  “Do you want to add yours?”

“You want me to write ‘Rumplestiltskin visited this church to check the register of all local first borns’?”

She shot him a look.

“Don’t you dare.”

“Ah.”  He showed his teeth.  “You want me to write ‘the Darkest of all Dark Ones visited this church and would like to compliment you on the suitability of this space for the casting of curses’?”

“The Darkest of all Dark Ones almost cries whenever our son looks at him,” she said dryly.  “You’re not that scary, Rumple.  Just put your name in the damn book.”

He chuckled, grinning at her, and took the pen that she flourished.

* * *

The walk around the lake took them most of the day, as they frequently stopped to admire the views or to snack on the food they had brought.  At times the trail was very rocky, and Rumple privately worried that Belle would fall and break an ankle, but they made it around without incident, and arrived back at the hotel tired but happy.

Belle tried to hide a yawn behind her hand as they went down to dinner, Rumple carrying Gideon in his basket.  He had dressed in his suit again, which looked out of place in the rustic surroundings of the inn, but she thought he was so handsome it didn’t matter.  She had pulled on a simple blue dress and a small cardigan with flat shoes, her feet tired after all the walking.  Her leg muscles ached pleasantly, the strenuous walk an enjoyable way to spend the day, but the fresh air had taken its toll on her, and she yawned again.  Rumple eyed her knowingly as they took a seat in the hotel bar.

“An early night, I think,” he said, and she grinned at him.

“Maybe not _too_ early.”

He returned her grin, and went to order drinks.  Belle looked around the bar, enjoying the quiet atmosphere and gentle chatter coming from nearby tables.  The ceiling was lower than she was used to, the wooden panelling dark and shining with what she suspected were a couple of centuries of beeswax polish.  Gideon was awake, looking around with bright brown eyes, and she clucked at him, waving a finger and letting him grab it.  She looked up with a smile as Rumple set a glass of wine in front of her.

“I’m starving,” she said.  “What’s on the menu?  The pie was good last night, but I’d like something different.”

“There’s a beef stew,” he said.  “With dumplings, as I understand it.  A steak and kidney pudding, and something called tatie pot.”

Belle wrinkled her nose at the sound of a kidney pudding.

“What’s tatie pot?” she asked.

“It sounds very much like something the spinsters that raised me used to make,” he said.  “Potatoes and onions, layered up with pieces of lamb and black pudding, all cooked with herbs and stock.  Peasant food, but good.”

“Another savoury pudding?” she asked wryly.  “What’s this one made of?”

Rumple smiled.

“Pig’s blood, mixed with oats and pork fat and stuffed into intestines,” he said.

“Ew, Rumple…”

“I’m sure it’s delicious.”

“You order it then,” she said, pulling a face.

“I’m going to.”  He grinned at her.  “What would you like?  I can get them to make you a burger if the local specialities aren’t to your taste.”

She shot him a look.

“Fine, I’ll have the steak and kidney pudding,” she said.  “We should try new things at least once, right?”

“Oh, at least once.  Perhaps twice, just to be sure.”

His smile turned wicked, and she felt herself blush.

“Just go and order,” she muttered, and he turned away, chuckling.

She watched him go, the light shining on his greying hair.  She liked it short, but she had to admit she missed the soft feel of its length between her fingers.  The way it had brushed her face when he kissed her.  When his body pressed down on her.  A faint blush rose in her cheeks at the thought, and she turned her attention to Gideon, who was beginning to grumble.  She picked him up, setting him on her lap and smiling down as he looked around with interest, his feet kicking a little.  Rumple came back in, sitting down opposite with a soft look in his eyes as he watched them.  She watched his fingers dance across the wooden table top towards his wineglass, and licked her lips.

“I guess we’ll move on tomorrow,” she said, and he smiled.

“Yes.  Have you enjoyed it here?”

“Oh, vey much!” she said eagerly.  “It’s so different to Storybrooke, but I love it!”

“Well, we can travel for as long as you want,” he said gently.  “If you want to keep going until Gideon’s in his teens, it’s fine with me.”

She chuckled.

“Oh, I expect I’ll want to settle down at some point,” she said, and he grinned.

“Well, it doesn’t have to be any time soon.”

He picked up his glass, taking a drink, and she bounced Gideon on her knee, making him gurgle.

“Besides, I’d like to have another baby,” she added, and he choked, spraying wine.

“What?”

She giggled at his face, wide-eyed with droplets of wine on his lips.

“Relax, I didn’t mean now,” she said.  “In a year or so, though.  We never - we never got to enjoy this pregnancy.”

She cut off, regret stealing her words, and he sat back, his face settling into a heavy, pained expression.

“No.”

There was a moment of silence, and she wondered if he felt as bad as she did over that whole horrible mess.  She suspected he felt worse, knowing him.

“So I’d like us to have another baby, when Gideon’s a little older,” she said.  “And - and maybe we shouldn’t be in Storybrooke when I’m pregnant.  Just an idea.”

His expression cleared, and his smile was back, spreading across his face and making his eyes gleam with love.

“We’ll go wherever you wish.”

He leaned forward, stretching a hand across the table, and she took it, threading her fingers through his and smiling back at him.  Gideon burbled, still kicking her legs, and she sighed, kissing the top of his head.

“Here.”  Rumple sat back a little.  “I’ll take him.”

She picked up their son, holding him out, and smiled as Rumple took him and cradled him in his arms, talking soothing nonsense to him.  Gideon settled immediately, blinking up at his father and reaching up to touch his nose.  Rumple’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, and Belle felt a lump form in her throat.  How could she ever have thought him a threat?  She looked away, picking up her wineglass and blinking back the first sting of tears.

“Steak and kidney pudding.”

The sound of the waiter’s voice made her look up, and she nodded as he set a plate in front of her.  A golden, steaming dome of pastry sat on it, and she eyed it curiously.  This was a pudding?

“And the tatie pot,” the man added, setting a plate in front of Rumple.  It was a pile of sliced potatoes, studded with chunks of lamb and pieces of something black and glistening that she suspected was the blood sausage he had mentioned.  Potato slices covered the top, brown and crisp from the oven, and her mouth watered at the aromas coming from their plates.

“I’ll just get the veg,” said the waiter, and stomped off again.

He returned with vegetables: chunks of roasted potato, carrots glazed with honey and mustard, and a dish of dark green leaves cooked with crisp cubes of bacon.  Rather surprisingly, there was also a serving of sliced and pickled red cabbage.  Rumple shrugged when he saw it.

“I suspect it’ll cut the richness of the dish,” he said, and sat Gideon on his lap as he reached for a serving spoon.

Belle cut into her pudding, releasing a wonderful savoury smell and a thick spurt of gravy.  The suet pastry was light and fluffy, chunks of tender steak falling out onto the plate, and she inhaled deeply before helping herself to some of the vegetables.  Rumple was already tucking into his meal, and winked at her.

“How is it?” she asked curiously.  “The - the black pudding?”

“It’s delicious,” he said.  “Want to try a piece?”

“Okay.”

She watched a little warily as he speared a piece on his fork, along with a cube of lamb and a slice of potato.  He held it up, and she leaned across the table, opening her mouth.  The first taste was a revelation: tender, tasty lamb with a faint touch of rosemary and thyme, and the soft, delicate texture of the black pudding.  It tasted rich and earthy, with hints of pepper and ground mace, the sliced potato crisp and chewy.  She grinned at him, and Rumple winked.

“Told you,” he said.

* * *

They ate their fill as the inn got busier, walkers and young families crowding into the bar to order drinks and food.  Eventually Belle sat back with a sigh, picking up her wine and draining the glass.

“That was great,” she said contentedly.  “Just what I needed after all that walking.”

“Savoury puddings get your seal of approval, then?” he remarked, pushing his empty plate away, and she beamed at him.

“Doubt we’ll get one at Granny’s, though,” she said.  “Are you ready to go up?”

He drank the last of his wine, setting down his glass, and cradled a sleeping Gideon in the crook of his arm as he stood.

“Ready when you are.”

She followed him up, the stairs creaking under their feet, one hand sliding up the banister of dark, polished wood.  She wondered how many people had trodden those stairs, and held that banister.  Whether newlyweds had trotted up eagerly, desperate to be alone.  The way she felt now.  She watched Rumple’s body move as he climbed, and resisted the urge to reach up and pinch his tight rear.

They tucked Gideon into the cot at the end of the bed, and Belle locked the door behind them as Rumple unbuttoned his jacket and hung it up.  She yawned again, shedding her cardigan, and he shot her an amused glance.

“Too tired?” he asked.  “Perhaps I should let you sleep.”

“When you’ve tired me out properly,” she said coyly, and he grinned.

“We’ll have to be careful not to wake Gideon.”

“He was out like a light after dinner,” she said.  “I think the fresh air got to him, too.”

He tugged at his tie, pulling it open, a wicked grin on his face.

“I’ll be gentle with you, then.”

“Not too gentle,” she said, and grasped the ends of the tie, pulling him to her.

Rumple kissed her, his hands gripping her waist and pulling her tight against him as she drew off the length of dark purple silk and tossed it aside.  Her fingers went to work on his buttons, and he teased her tongue with his as she slid cool hands in over the hot skin of his chest.  Her mouth was hot and wet, sweet and ripe with the taste of the wine, and he let out a low, satisfied rumble as his tongue stroked hers.  Belle got his shirt open, pushing it from his shoulders, and he broke the kiss, stepping to the side.  He plucked at his cufflinks, taking them off and setting them on the dresser, and let the shirt fall, turning back to Belle, who was watching him with heat in her eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

“So are you.”

He grinned, cupping her face with his hands and bending to kiss her again.  Belle moaned into his mouth, and he reached around to find the zipper of her dress, tugging it down and pulling the warm wool from her shoulders to expose the black bra she wore.  He pulled his mouth from his to kiss down her neck and over the pale slopes of her breasts, his lips pulling at her skin, and Belle slid her hands over his naked shoulders, pushing her body against him.

“Rumple,” she murmured softly, and he grinned, pulling down one of the soft black cups and exposing her nipple to his wet mouth.

He sucked at her, running his tongue over the nipple as it hardened, and Belle moaned, her nails digging into his skin as she rose up on her toes.  He turned attention to her other breast, reaching around her back to unhook the bra, his hands cupping her soft flesh and squeezing gently as he licked and sucked, his tongue swirling over her fragrant skin.  She let the bra fall, and his thumbs hooked under the sides of the dress, pushing it down over her hips until she stepped out of it.  Only her small black panties remained, and he drew a finger around the lace at the top of her thigh, dipping into the soft flesh between her legs and making her moan.  He could feel wetness there, already soaking through, and he longed to be inside her, to taste her, to feel her all around him.

Belle kicked off her flats as he drew his tongue back up her throat to tease the seam of her lips.  She opened her mouth for him, almost biting his lips in her eagerness, and his hands slid down to cup her buttocks and squeeze.  Her hands dropped to his belt, tugging it open and plucking at the button of his pants.  She pushed them over his hips, running her hands over the black silk beneath with a low noise of pleasure in the back of her throat.  Rumple kissed her gently, pulling back to gaze down at her with eyes filled with love.

“On the bed, sweetheart,” he whispered.

She kissed him again before climbing onto the bed on her hands and knees, and he got on beside her, rolling her onto her back and fastening his mouth over her nipple.  Belle arched up into him, moaning as he licked and sucked, one hand sliding down to push beneath the waistband of her underwear.  She moaned again as his fingers slid into the wet folds between her legs, and Rumple smiled against her skin,

“You feel perfect, my love,” he breathed.  “Perfect.”

He began stroking her, fingertips sliding and flickering over her sensitive flesh, and she let her fingers trail through his hair, short, silvery strands gleaming in the low light of the lamps.  A finger slid inside her, and she moaned, lifting her hips a little.

“Take them off,” she whispered.  “I want you inside me.”

He drew the panties down over her hips, tugging them off at her feet, and she pushed his own underwear off, running her palms over the hot skin of his rear.  He groaned at her touch, moving to lie between her legs, pressing up against her, and she ran her nose over the skin of his chest, inhaling his musky scent.  It felt so good to have him there, his warmth and weight pressing down on her, and she opened her legs a little further, trailing her fingers up his back and over the nape of his neck to brush through his hair.

Rumple reached between them, grasping himself to guide his way into her, and Belle’s eyes widened, meeting his as he pushed inside, her breath coming hard over moist, parted lips.  She was so beautiful it made his heart clench, and he sank into her with a groan of pleasure, reaching up to stroke her dark curls back from her face.  Her lips curved upwards, her eyes gleaming, and he bent his head to kiss her, tasting the sweetness of her mouth as he began to move.  Belle lifted her knees, allowing him deeper, and he kept his thrusts slow and steady, rolling his hips a little to grind against her and pull tiny cries of pleasure from her throat.

Heat was building between them, perspiration forming where their skin touched, and he licked salt from the pale length of her throat, his mouth fastening over the point where her pulse throbbed, hard and heavy.  Belle moaned again, arching her body, her fingers scraping his scalp and sending shivers through him.  He thought of all the time they had been parted, all the wasted days and months and years when they could have been together, and happy.  Some of it his fault, some of it the fault of others, of course.  His long life was littered with regrets, but loving Belle had never been one of them.  Loving Belle had brought him light, had kept him whole.  Had given them Gideon.  And now she wanted another.  It made his heat swell to think of it, and he swore to spend the rest of his life attempting to deserve her.

Emotion was making tears prick his eyes, and Belle’s brow furrowed as she looked up at him, lifting her hips to meet him, her thighs gripping his sides.  He kissed her again, revelling in the feel of her hot flesh tugging at him, and he could feel her nearing her peak, her body stiffening around him.  He quickened his pace a little, plunging into her, and her moans grew louder, her fingers digging into his shoulders.  She tore her mouth from his with a loud cy of pleasure as she came, and the feel of her clenching around him pulled him with her, making him spurt into her with a groan, white light bursting in his head as he poured himself inside her.

Belle tried to catch her breath, her heart thumping as her bliss faded, her body tingling from his touch, from his kisses.  He was gazing down at her with that familiar look in his eyes, heavy-lidded and content, love flowing out to wrap around her in soft folds as a slow smile spread across his face.  She reached up to cup his cheek, his skin a little damp from their exertions, and brushed her thumb over the softness of his lower lip.

“I love you, Rumple,” she whispered, and his eyes crinkled, emotion plain in his face and making his mouth twist a little.

“I love you, too,” he said softly.  “So much, Belle.”

He bent to kiss her, and she wrapped her arms around him, warm and sated and so, so happy.  The kiss ended, his lips pulling at hers, and he raised his head a little, his eyes soft and tender, one hand cupping her cheek and sending warmth through her.  He was hers, and hers only.  The father of her child, and the children to come.  Her true love.

“So,” he murmured, his lips brushing hers.  “Where next?”


End file.
